


Watch Your Angels Fly Away

by PeachyRenjun



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Depression, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Trans Male Character, and also a powerbottom, dotae are both trans, doyoung is an honors student, gay culture, taeyong is a sad boy with a lot of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyRenjun/pseuds/PeachyRenjun
Summary: When Doyoung gets accepted to the college he had spent his whole high school career working towards, the only thing holding him back from immediately saying yes is Taeyong, his amazing boyfriend with an instinct for self-destruction, whom he would have to leave behind.





	Watch Your Angels Fly Away

**Author's Note:**

> So a /lot/ of this is told through flashbacks so just be prepared for that. Whenever it goes to past tense, it's a flashback. Also, the smut scene in this is longer than I planned on it being but I'm going to blame that on @timedoesntexist for encouraging me to finally write detailed smut.

There’s probably more than one reason that Doyoung, despite being the “perfect student” schools like to show off, is never paraded in front of touring families like all of the sports stars and student council members are, but he’s pretty certain that Taeyong is at least one of those reasons.

“Could you _please_ put your phone away for once, Taeyong?” Doyoung whispers it into Taeyong’s ear in the middle of an assembly, knowing that Taeyong won’t listen to him. “The teachers are on the lookout today.”

Taeyong just rolls his eyes, but Doyoung can tell that he puts a little more effort into looking like he’s paying attention, glancing up every twenty seconds or so to where the dean of students is reading off another announcement. They’re near the back, in the middle of one of the rows of chairs and seemingly out of sight, but Doyoung has seen teachers snatch phones off of unsuspecting freshmen sitting in their exact position too many times before.

As they’re dismissed for the day, released to their “freetime” that is spent primarily in the dorms or libraries, Taeyong tucks his phone into his pocket and Doyoung mentally prepares himself to be used as a human shield to push through the crowd of teenagers, just like every other Friday. Taeyong puts his hands on Doyoung’s shoulders, using the inch of height that Doyoung has over him to propel through the crowd relatively unscathed. Doyoung nearly gets pushed face-first into one of the bulky, sweaty freshmen that was only admitted because of athletics, but that’s par for the course.

They make their way back to their shared room, and Taeyong flops face-first onto his bed as Doyoung closes the door. Doyoung goes to check his email, knowing that Taeyong will inevitably either fall asleep or start talking.

“I got called to the counselor’s office earlier today.” The latter then.

Doyoung hums. “What for?”

Taeyong rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling with misplaced hatred. “One of the teachers saw my scars and reported me. That motherfucker.” He huffs. “Like seriously, who the hell thinks that half an hour in the school counselor’s office is going to help when I’ve literally been five steps from suicidal for half my life?”

Doyoung abandons his computer. The email hasn’t come yet. He goes to sit on the edge of Taeyong’s bed. “You know teachers are legally required to report that, right?”

“Doesn’t make it any less shitty of a thing to do,” Taeyong murmurs.

Doyoung doesn’t try to argue, because arguing with Taeyong never gets anywhere when he’s being like this. Reason and logic fade away when Taeyong wants only to feel, to think what he’s already thought a hundred times before he dared to voice it to Doyoung. Doyoung’s just happy that he voices it at all. The things Taeyong doesn’t say have a tendency to eat away at him.

“Well, at least you’ve gotten it over with, right?”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Assuming I don’t get called back for a follow-up session. I’m pretty sure there’s a red sticker on my file that reads ‘high risk’ at this point.”

“Probably,” Doyoung says, and he lies down on the bed next to Taeyong, pulling Taeyong’s head to rest on his shoulder. One of his hands ghosts over Taeyong’s side, feeling through the layers of fabric to where he can almost feel ribs beneath tight skin. But he can also feel a seam, one that hugs too tightly to the skin to be an undershirt. “How long have you been wearing your binder today?”

Taeyong avoids Doyoung’s eyes. “Must be ten hours now.”

Doyoung sits up, pulling Taeyong with him. “Off. Now.” He begins pulling at the fabric of Taeyong’s uniform blazer, pulling it over Taeyong’s head before he begins to unbutton the shirt underneath it. “You know we have the long day on Fridays, why did you wear it today?”

“Dysphoria is a bitch,” Taeyong says. Doyoung tugs at the bottom of Taeyong’s binder, and he just puts his arms up and allows Doyoung to shimmy it off of him.

Doyoung shakes his head as he walks across the room to put the binder on Taeyong’s dresser, grabbing a sports bra from his own dresser as he does. “Eight hours at a time, you know that.” He tosses the sports bra at Taeyong. “And besides, it’s good for your chest to take a day off here and there.”

“Thanks for the reminder, dad,” Taeyong says, pulling the sports bra on. “Have you got a non-uniform shirt?”

“Get one of your own,” Doyoung says. “I’m not becoming your outfit planner.”

Taeyong goes to grab a shirt from his dresser, pulling it on and walking over to face Doyoung. “I was talking about something for you to wear, actually.” Taeyong begins to repay the favor and pulls at the hem of Doyoung’s sweater. “If we have to go to hall dinner wearing sports bras, then we’re going to do it in style.”

Doyoung smiles despite himself, watching fondly as Taeyong digs through Doyoung’s drawers to find a shirt that almost matches Taeyong’s own. He hands it to Doyoung as he goes back over to his own dresser to find that set of couple earrings that they had bought as a joke a few years earlier but had somehow grown to love.

“What are you smiling at?” Taeyong asks, dropping one set of earrings into Doyoung’s hand.

“Just the world’s cutest boyfriend,” Doyoung says, and Taeyong looks like he’s about to die of blushing too hard. Doyoung puts the earrings in quickly. “C’mon, Tae, look at me.”

Taeyong meets his eyes for half a second, and then before Doyoung can think of another witty retort, Taeyong’s lips are on his. Doyoung’s hands gravitate to Taeyong’s hips, pulling the shorter boy closer. One of Taeyong’s hands lands on his cheek, and Doyoung will never get used to the feeling of having Taeyong this close.

They pull back, and Taeyong takes his hand. “As much as I hate to say it, we should probably go to dinner soon. I don’t want to get in trouble again today.”

“One second,” Doyoung says. “My top choice school is supposed to send out decisions today. Let me check again.”

Taeyong lets go of him as Doyoung walks back over to his desk. “They probably haven’t sent it out since the last time you checked, you know. It’s been like twenty minutes. Just check after dinner.”

Doyoung presses the reload button. “I literally need like ten seconds, Tae.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “And you say I’m the one who’s always late for things.”

Doyoung tunes him out as his eyes catch on a new email. He clicks it, reading through the first few lines. He got in. Holy shit. He got in. And on a large enough scholarship his family can afford it, too.

“Doyoungie, are you okay? You’ve been staring at the screen for like a minute straight.”

Doyoung looks at Taeyong. Taeyong, who’s already committed to a college only a few hours from their current school. Taeyong, who would be a plane ride away from him at all times if he went to the school he just got into. Taeyong, who’s never been able to survive on his own. Taeyong, the love of his life.

Holy shit.

 

\---

 

The first time Doyoung met Taeyong, when they were in middle school and had a few classes together and a few friends in common, his main impression was that Taeyong was the type of kid that could only get into a school like this because of his parents’ money. Taeyong didn’t seem to give a fuck about much of anything. He never paid attention in class, and everytime their friends sat Taeyong down next to Doyoung at lunch--when he was trying, in vain, to study--Taeyong would open his mouth and say something that Doyoung could only describe as woefully out of touch.

But they were also two of the only people who were visibly--or even openly--not cishet, and so Doyoung resigned himself to the other boy’s presence. They were better off sticking together, he supposed. And eventually, after Taeyong lured him into watching one of his favorite anime series together over a long weekend that Doyoung spent at Taeyong’s parents’ house, they had something to talk about that. Legitimately.

They still weren’t the best of friends after that, but when Taeyong disappeared from school for two weeks before Easter, Doyoung couldn’t help but worry. They were at a boarding school, for goodness sake. People don’t just _disappear_ like that. And when Doyoung asked Seulgi, Taeyong’s roommate, if she had any idea where he went, she just shook her head and said that he’d gone to his parent’s house for the weekend and hadn’t come back.

So when Doyoung sat down for breakfast one Saturday, he almost believed that stress had finally driven him to hallucinate when Taeyong sat down across from him, a bowl of cereal and some burnt toast on his plate.

“Are you alright?”

Taeyong dug his spoon into the cereal. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

Doyoung nodded. “If you need someone to talk to though, not right now, but at some point in the future, you know you can trust me, right? Like, we have to stick together and all. I’m here for you.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes. “You’re talking too much again.”

“I’m just worried about you. You were gone for two weeks!”

Taeyong stood up, grabbing Doyoung by the collar and dragging him along. “Worried about me?” He walked to the bathroom by the cafeteria that no one ever used. “Were you really so fucking worried?”

“Yes, Taeyong, I really am,” Doyoung said, scanning the abandoned bathroom to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “Maybe you don’t believe me, but I’m your friend. And that means I care about you.”

Taeyong blinked, one of the corners of his lips pulling up to become what should have been a smirk but looked so fucking bitter that it could no longer be called that. “You want to know what happened? This happened.”

He pulled up one of his sleeves, exposing long red cuts across his wrist and forearm. “I tried to kill myself, and my parents stopped me.” He huffed, looking away. “And then I spent two weeks in a mental ward that did the exact opposite of convincing me that I don’t want to die.”

Doyoung bit his lip. “Taeyong.” He tried to say something else, to put into practice all of those articles he had ever read about talking to someone who’s suicidal, but none of the words manifested on his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Taeyong pulled the sleeve back down. “Well now you know, don’t you? Are you satisfied yet?”

Doyoung didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, but he just wrapped Taeyong in a hug and held Taeyong against him until the other boy stopped trying to move away. He felt Taeyong, slowly but surely, wrap his arms around Doyoung’s back and put his weight into Doyoung’s chest. “Tell me, next time, before you do anything stupid.”

“Are you counting what I did as stupid?” Taeyong asked, murmured it against Doyoung’s neck in a voice that Doyoung strained to hear.

“Of course,” Doyoung said. “There’s a lot of smart ways to get through things, Taeyong, and that isn’t one of them.”

Taeyong laughed. “Like what?”

“Not trying to die, for one,” Doyoung said. Taeyong giggled, but made no response. “Really, though. I’m here for you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

 

\---

 

The thing is, Doyoung knows that Taeyong is smart. Smarter than a lot of kids in their grade, between the athletes and the legacies, but it takes a kick in the ass to get Taeyong to apply himself.

“Okay, how about this. For each question you get right, you get a kiss. Alright?” Doyoung looks up from Taeyong’s chemistry textbook to where Taeyong is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Does that mean you’re going to withhold kisses if I don’t get the questions right?” Taeyong glances over at him, meeting his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Taeyong rolls over to face him. He even moves to sit up a little. “You really know how to get what you want, don’t you?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “If I was getting what I want, I’d be studying for my Chinese test right now. But instead, I’m doing what _you_ need. So we’re going to sit here until you correctly answer enough questions to convince me that you’re not going to fail your chem test.”

“Fair enough,” Taeyong says. “Ask away.”

Doyoung poses a question from the review chapter of the book. Of all the sciences, chemistry has never been his strong suit. He hasn’t taken it since sophomore year either, so he’s going entirely on very vague memories and logic at this point. Not exactly the best for composing questions from thin air, especially for one of the few advanced-level classes in Taeyong’s schedule.

Taeyong bites his lip, moving his fingers around in the air as if drawing a diagram in his mind. Doyoung smiles, trying not to laugh at how cute his boyfriend is when he’s concentrating. “Sodium?”

“Good job,” Doyoung says, and he leans forward to press his lips to Taeyong’s, and Taeyong leans into the kiss the way that he does when he wants it to last longer than Doyoung is usually comfortable with. Doyoung pulls away after a few seconds. “Don’t get greedy. We still have more questions.”

“You’re going to drive me insane.” Taeyong narrows his eyes at Doyoung, and Doyoung’s heart beats faster. As much as he hates to admit it, as much as Taeyong would protest it, Doyoung probably does get off on helping Taeyong, being responsible for cleaning up his mess and raising his grades. But then again, maybe it’s just the way that Taeyong gets so worked up when Doyoung pushes him like this.

“It’s for your own good.”

 

\---

 

“Can I trust you to have your slides done before Tuesday or not?” Doyoung breathed the words down the phone, listening to the sound of Taeyong breathing on the other end.

“Yeah,” Taeyong said. “I’ll get it done. I swear.”

“You better,” Doyoung said, letting the challenge drip through his voice, knowing Taeyong would pick it up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Taeyong said, and Doyoung hung up, putting the phone on his bedside table without further comment. Doyoung’s roommate raised an eyebrow, but she made no comment as Doyoung went back to typing. She was used to Doyoung’s workaholic tendencies at this point, and had also had one too many run-ins with Doyoung’s bossy voice when she forgot to take out their trash or vacuum when it was her turn.

Doyoung typed away, finishing his own slides for the project within the next two hours. It was their first big history project as high schoolers, and Doyoung aimed to impress. He wasn’t here on a scholarship for nothing.

The next week passed without much comment, and soon it was Monday afternoon, and Doyoung was dragging Taeyong back to his dorm room by the collar. They needed to go over the presentation, and perhaps more importantly, Doyoung needed to make sure he didn’t have to save both their asses if Taeyong hadn’t followed through.

They sat down on Doyoung’s bed, their elbows brushing against each other, and Doyoung pulled up the presentation on his laptop. As it loaded, he began flipping through the slides, past his own and through Taeyong’s. They were fully filled in, with pertinent images and everything. The bullet points weren’t too long, and it was exactly how Doyoung would have done it himself. “You actually did it.”

“You should have more faith in me.” Taeyong leaned his head against Doyoung’s shoulder. “Also, I looked over your slides. You made a mistake with some of the dates on the third slide, so I fixed it.”

“No, I didn’t,” Doyoung went back to the slide Taeyong had indicated.

“There, see,” Taeyong said, pointing at one of the bullet points. “You said Wu Zetian died in February of 705. She actually died in December, she was just deposed in February.”

Doyoung quickly googled it, discovering that Taeyong was right with a few clicks. “Good eye,” Doyoung said, and Taeyong smiled into his neck.

“You should thank me.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes. “You wish.” He glanced at Taeyong, seeing those taunting eyes smiling back at them. “Really, though. I’m proud of you.”

 

\---

 

Doyoung searches for a link to a video to add to their presentation on the history of LGBT activism for the next GSA meeting while Taeyong sits on his own bed across the room, adding images to the slides as necessary.

“It’s kind of cool, isn’t it, that a lot of early activism in the U.S. gay rights movement was linked to party culture?” Taeyong looks up from the powerpoint, smiling at Doyoung. “I mean, I kind of wish I could have been a part of that, you feel?”

Doyoung snorts. “You’re allergic to alcohol. You wouldn’t last a damn week.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “And besides, it’s not cool. It’s kind of tragic, really. That the culture was forced to be so underground, and that it only reinforced stereotypes about promiscuity.”

“But,” Taeyong says, raising a finger, “you could also view a lot of modern gay rights as being toned down to be palatable to the straight population. This was the culture in its unrestrained form. Like pride, but all the time.”

Doyoung pushes his laptop off his lap, going to sit on the other bed next to Taeyong. “Doesn’t it feel better, though, to live in a world where committed gay relationships can be recognized?”

“I mean, yeah,” Taeyong says. “But I feel like the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Doyoung sighs. They’ve reached the point where neither of them can win. He puts a hand on Taeyong’s thigh. “If you think so.” He catches Taeyong’s eye, and Taeyong pushes his own laptop away as Doyoung smirks.

Doyoung moves to sit on Taeyong’s lap, catching Taeyong’s lips with his own, and he can tell that Taeyong is enjoying this. Taeyong is usually the touchy one, the one scrambling for Doyoung’s attention and affection, but he loves it when Doyoung is the one to initiate things. Because Doyoung is always hesitant, always careful, plans things out and watches their backs. And sure, he’s probably more than a little emotionally stifled, but that’s usually an advantage. With everyone except for Taeyong.

Taeyong’s hands run over Doyoung’s hips, moving upward to his waist. Doyoung smiles into the kiss. “Don’t you love living in a world where we can do this? You know, a world that’s not dominated by party culture?”

“Are you trying to bring us back into the argument?”

“Not at all,” Doyoung says, and he kisses Taeyong again. He was definitely trying to start the argument again. Taeyong is always just that little bit sexier when he’s worked up over their arguments. Taeyong puts his all into everything, and it’s so easy to get him invested in something. Taeyong loves so goddamn easily, and Doyoung can’t help but admire him for it.

Doyoung really would miss this, the feeling of Taeyong’s hands and lips and moans and the way he can never get enough, can’t separate himself enough from the situation to realize that Doyoung is always trying to rile him up. Doyoung doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to leave this.

 

\---

 

Doyoung sat on the picnic table as he talked to Kun about a project that had to turn in the next week. Taeyong lounged on his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around Doyoung’s waist.

“Okay so I’ll cover the instructions for the lab if you do the demonstration,” Kun said, jotting down some notes. “Do you want to split the actual writing portion?”

“I can do the materials list and introduction if you do the process, since you’re going to be presenting that part anyway,” Doyoung replied. Kun nodded, adding down another note.

Ten walked up to the picnic table, sitting down next to Kun and laying his head on his forearms as he looked up at Doyoung and Taeyong. “So, like, sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Kun once you’re done.” His eyes flitted between Doyoung and Taeyong, settling on the way that Taeyong’s fingers interlaced over Doyoung’s waist. “Did you guys finally get together?”

Doyoung sputtered, voicing a, “No,” at the same time that Taeyong pressed a kiss to his cheek and smirked.

“Yes,” Taeyong said, and Ten just laughed as Doyoung glared.

Kun cleared his throat, and Doyoung turned his attention back to the project. Once they were done planning, Ten pulled Kun away, dragging him off to some arts club that he had persuaded Kun to sign up for at the beginning of the semester. Doyoung and Taeyong were left alone in the small courtyard with the picnic table, and Taeyong just snuggled closer to Doyoung.

“Why did you say that?” Doyoung asked, and Taeyong hummed.

“Say what?”

“That we’re together,” Doyoung said. “Because we’re not.”

Taeyong giggles. “Everyone thinks we are, though.”

“Yeah, because you go around telling them that we are.” Doyoung felt his heart beating fast, the way it always did when Taeyong was this close, teasing him like this. It really wasn’t fair.

“Isn’t it kind of fun, though?” Taeyong asked. “This school needs more gay couples anyway. There’s too many straight people.”

Doyoung sighs. “We’re not actually a couple, though. I think that’s the part you’re forgetting here.”

Taeyong raised an eyebrow. “We could be, though.”

“Taeyong.” Doyoung tensed. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Taeyong looked up at him. “What makes you think I don’t mean it?”

His heartbeat sped up as he looked at Taeyong’s pink hair draped across his shoulder, the way the boy was just smirking at him the way he always did when he knew that he was about to get his way. “Prove to me you mean it.”

“And how do I do that?” Taeyong asked. He moved his head off of Doyoung’s shoulder to look him in the eye. He was much too close for comfort, but Doyoung supposed that was the point of this anyway.

Doyoung’s eyes flitted between Taeyong’s eyes and lips, slowly enough for Taeyong to catch it. He raised an eyebrow, challenging Taeyong, and Taeyong smirked as he leaned in to kiss him.

“I hope you realize,” Taeyong said, half an hour later as they were gathering their bags and getting ready to walk to the dining hall, “that this means I’m never letting you go now. You’re my boyfriend forever. No take-backs.”

“Psh,” Doyoung said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “As if you ever would have let me go anyway.”

 

\---

 

Doyoung rolls over in bed, looking across the room to where Taeyong is whimpering loudly in his sleep. With a sigh, Doyoung gets up and walks across the room to gently shake Taeyong’s shoulders to wake him from whatever nightmare he’s having now.

“Are you alright?” Doyoung asks as Taeyong blinks himself awake.

“Nightmare,” Taeyong says, and Doyoung nods.

Taeyong’s still twitchy. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight? Maybe having someone with you will help.”

“You know I tend to kick in my sleep,” Taeyong says, and Doyoung just rolls his eyes.

“Believe me, I know,” he says. “But you’re more important than a bruise on my leg. Come on.”

Doyoung walks back over to his bed, and a few seconds after he lays down, he feels Taeyong cuddle into his side beneath the blankets. Taeyong’s head rests on his shoulder, and Doyoung brings a hand up to brush through his hair.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you just want to sleep?”

Taeyong’s breath hits Doyoung’s neck in an uneven pattern, freezing here and there for a few seconds. Taeyong’s thinking. “It was about the hospital. After my breakdown in middle school.” Doyoung hums for him to continue. “I know it’s stupid to be having nightmares about it like six years later, but my mind just won’t leave me alone, you know?”

“I understand,” Doyoung says, even if he doesn’t, really. Taeyong needs to hear this, and sometimes what people need to hear is more important than pure honesty. “It’s natural for things that made a large emotional impact on you to keep showing up. And for you, it just happens that the most emotional thing in your life was negative, you know? Like it sucks, but it’s just how things are.”

Taeyong’s hand comes up to fidget with the collar of Doyoung’s pajamas. “You’re wrong.”

“How?”

Taeyong wraps one of his leg over Doyoung’s. “If I was dreaming about the most emotional experiences of my life, most of them would be about you.”

Doyoung can feel himself blushing in the darkness. “So you don’t dream about me?”

“Of course I do,” Taeyong says. “Just not as often as I’d like to.”

They lay in silence for a minute. Doyoung breathes in and out slowly, hoping that Taeyong will try to match his breathing pattern and begin to fall asleep. “Why don’t you try that, tonight? To dream of me?”

“I always try that,” Taeyong says. His lips curl against Doyoung’s shoulder. “But then I’ll wake up with you and I’ll never want to get out of bed.”

“Do you make it your mission in life to be cheesy?”

“Only with you.”

Doyoung can feel himself beginning to fall asleep, and he wraps both of his arms around Taeyong’s back. Taeyong puts more weight on him, and it’s not the most comfortable thing, but there’s a lot of things that Doyoung has done for Taeyong that are kind of uncomfortable. There’s even more that he would do for him that would be counted as beyond uncomfortable.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong says, right before Doyoung can cross the line into sleep. “I know you’ve been thinking about whether or not you should accept your dream school’s offer. And I know that I’m the only thing holding you back.”

Doyoung doesn’t respond, and Taeyong continues. “I want you to do it. If you can’t find any reason that’s not me. Because you have dreams, and those dreams deserve to be lived.

“I’ll be fine without you. I promise.”

If only Doyoung could trust him to keep that promise.

 

\---

 

Doyoung huffed as he picked up his bag. The director had assigned him to the soprano section, yet again. He had explicitly wrote on his form that he could sing tenor, that he _preferred_ to sing tenor, but there were too few sopranos and Doyoung could technically sing that high, so a soprano he became. It sucked. It really sucked.

As he waited for his older brother to pick him up and drive him home for the night, his phone buzzed.

“Taeyong?”

He could hear Taeyong’s voice slurring from the other end. “ _So life fucking sucks, right?”_

Doyoung sighed. “Taeyong, what did you do?”

“ _Vodka, I think. Pretty sure,”_ Taeyong said. “ _My mom and I got into an argument again. This is why I fucking hate holidays.”_

Doyoung looked around the darkening parking lot. “Taeyong, listen to me.” Taeyong giggled. “I mean it.”

“ _Listening, babe.”_

“You need to go find some water. Make sure you drink enough, alright? Alcohol dehydrates you,” Doyoung took a deep breath. Then he realized. “Taeyong, aren’t you allergic to alcohol?”

Taeyong giggled again. _“Why do you think I’m drinking it? Tastes fucking terrible.”_ He took a loud gulp from the other end, and Doyoung really hoped that was water.

“Tae, listen to me. I really don’t want to get your parents or authorities involved, and I know you don’t want that either. But you need to stop drinking, at least for tonight. Can you do that?”

Taeyong took a deep breath. “ _Can you, like, just come be with me tonight? My parents wouldn’t care if you stayed over._ ”

Doyoung looked around as he stopped his brother’s car pulling in. “Tae, you’re nearly an hour away from where I am.”

“ _Is that a yes or a no, Doyoungie?”_

Doyoung took a deep breath. He opened the passenger door of his brother’s car, tossing his bag into the back and pulling the phone away from his ear. “Can you drive me to Taeyong’s house? I know it’s a while away, and I know it’s late, but it’s an emergency.”

His brother blinked at him, took a look at the dashboard, and then took a deep breath as he looked back at Doyoung. “Fine. But I want an explanation.”

He started driving out of the parking lot, turning down the road that led away from their own house but toward Taeyong’s. Doyoung let out his held breath. “I can’t right now, but I’ll tell you at some point, alright?”

His brother hummed, and Doyoung put the phone back to his ear. “I’m on my way, Taeyong. I’ll be there soon.”

“ _Keep talking to me, will you? Until you get here.”_

“Alright. Did you watch any new series that you like lately?”

Taeyong started ranting about some anime, and it wasn’t that coherent, but as long as he kept talking, Doyoung knew he was okay. Doyoung asked a few questions here and there to keep Taeyong talking, but he wasn’t really paying attention, instead keeping his eyes on the way his brothers fingers tapped impatiently against the steering wheel.

When they pulled up in front of Taeyong’s house, Doyoung jumped out of the car, grabbing his bag. “I’ll text you in the morning if I need you or mom to drive me back to chorus practice, alright?”

His brother nodded, and Doyoung closed the car door, going up to knock on the front door. Taeyong’s mom answered, and Doyoung stepped inside. “Sorry to come without telling you. Taeyong needed to see me.” Doyoung shucked off his shoes, bag still slung over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs to Taeyong’s room, not waiting to hear a response.

Taeyong’s door was locked. Of course it fucking was. “Taeyong, it’s me.”

A few seconds later, the lock clicked, and Doyoung pushed inside, not even waiting for Taeyong to open it. Setting his bag down on the floor beside Taeyong’s bed, Doyoung grabbed his own water bottle out of the bag. “Drink up.”

He tossed it to Taeyong, and Taeyong honestly didn’t outwardly look that much worse than usual, but when Taeyong missed catching the bottle by half a foot, Doyoung knew that he was definitely not alright.

“Sit,” Doyoung said, leading Taeyong to sit on the edge of his bed. He picked up the water bottle from where it had fallen on the floor. “Now drink this, or I’ll make you drink it.”

“Thanks, dad,” Taeyong rolled his eyes. He took the water bottle and took a few sips.

Doyoung looked around the room, immediately spotting the bottle of vodka that Taeyong must have raided from his parents’ cellar. It was mostly empty, but there was still more than enough left for Taeyong to do more damage. Content that Taeyong was busy with the water, Doyoung walked over and picked up the bottle, taking it into the bathroom off of Taeyong’s bedroom and dumping the remaining alcohol down the sink.

He walked back into the room, seeing that Taeyong had put the water bottle down on his bedside table. Doyoung took Taeyong’s cheeks in his hands, tilting Taeyong’s head up to look him in the eyes. Taeyong’s eyes were twitchy, unfocused, but some of it seemed to come less from the alcohol and more from a reluctance to look Doyoung in the eye.

“Here, lie down,” Doyoung said. Taeyong did so without complaint, and Doyoung pulled a blanket up over Taeyong’s shoulder. He dragged the trash can from the corner of the room to the side of the bed, right next to Taeyong’s head. “Stay on your side. I’ll be back in one second, alright?”

He picked up the water bottle, taking it back into the bathroom and filling it with tap water. He placed it back on the bedside table, and climbed into the bed from the other side to settle against Taeyong’s back, wrapping his arms around him.

“Don’t you fucking dare do that again, Tae, do you hear me?”

“Crystal clear,” Taeyong said, and Doyoung knew that he’d probably forget this by the morning.

Doyoung liked to believe that most people had some kind of instinct for self preservation. That they would ultimately do what was best for themselves, what would keep them safe and alive. Whatever would hurt the least. But the thing about Taeyong is that he doesn’t have that, if anything he has an instinct for self destruction. Doyoung has saved Taeyong from himself too many times to count.

But Doyoung promised him that he’d be here for him, and Doyoung wasn’t the type of person to walk back his promises.

 

\---

 

Doyoung’s hands slink around Taeyong’s waist as they “dance” to one of those slow-songs that gets played at every school dance to the point that it’s almost funny to hear it again. But they’re young and dumb and in love, so they rock gently to the music in a sea of other couples and feel a little less guilty.

Taeyong smiles at him, and Doyoung tries not to see the desperation behind them. The bitterness. Because this is going to come to an end. They both know it, even if they haven’t said it. They’ve known it since Doyoung sent in his enrollment deposit and promised to move hundreds of miles away.

“I love you,” Doyoung whispers into Taeyong’s ear, over the sounds of forever-love and teenage heartbreak. Taeyong giggles.

“You’ve been telling me that a lot lately,” Taeyong says, and Doyoung tries not to hear the accustion. “But I don’t mind.” He takes a deep breath, pulling himself closer to Doyoung. The chaperones are too preoccupied with the straight kids trying to fuck in the bathroom to tell them to leave room for Jesus. “I love you too.”

Doyoung feels their heartbeats against each other and tries not to imagine that each heartbeat is counting down to when they’ll part.

 

\---

 

Doyoung’s hand clenched in Taeyong’s hair as he pressed kisses to Doyoung’s chest. His lips found one of Doyoung’s nipples, and Taeyong sucked on it, touching his tongue to it. Doyoung let out a soft moan. “Good boy,” Doyoung breathed.

Taeyong pulled back for just a second to smile at him, and Doyoung nearly rolled his eyes at the way the smile looked more like a smirk. A challenge. Doyoung pushed his head back down, and he swore he could feel more than hear Taeyong giggle against his skin. Taeyong didn’t protest though, sucking the nipple back into his mouth as one of his hands came up to play with the other one.

“Keep going, baby,” Doyoung said, feeling Taeyong hum against his skin. “Get me nice and wet for you.”

Taeyong moaned around Doyoung’s nipple at that one, and one of Taeyong’s thighs pressed against Doyoung’s crotch. Doyoung ground his clit against the thigh, only partially because he knew how much it would make Taeyong impatient. He knew that Taeyong loved being able to feel how good he was making Doyoung feel. That Taeyong got off on getting Doyoung off.

“Tae,” Doyoung breathed. Taeyong kept sucking on him, tongue lapping against the surrounding flesh. “Tae. Stop for a second.”

Taeyong looked up with questioning eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Doyoung said. He ran a hand through Taeyong’s hair, pressing against his scalp and dragging a moan from Taeyong as his fingers pulled at some of the strands. “But you should probably go ahead and get ready before I get totally worked up.”

“Right,” Taeyong said. “Did you put it in your dresser or mine?”

“It’s under your bed. In the shoebox.” Doyoung watched as Taeyong scrambled off the bed, quickly finding the strap-on and putting it on over his boxers. Taeyong’s physical dysphoria was worse than Doyoung’s, and while Doyoung was more than comfortable letting Taeyong touch wherever he wanted on his body, Taeyong didn’t really like being touched sexually at all. But he liked touching Doyoung, and if that was what Taeyong liked, then Doyoung was more than happy to go along with it.

Taeyong climbed back on the bed, kissing Doyoung as he did. Doyoung smiled, and one of Taeyong’s hands came up to rest on Doyoung’s waist. “Can I touch you now?” Taeyong asked, and Doyoung nodded. Taeyong brought his fingers down to press against Doyoung’s clit. He rubbed against it, pressing just hard enough to have Doyoung squirming against him.

“Go ahead and put a finger in,” Doyoung said, and he caught Taeyong’s eyes as Taeyong obeyed. Taeyong’s finger felt good inside him, but it wasn’t nearly enough of a stretch. “You can go ahead and add a second one. We have to get me ready for you, don’t we?”

Taeyong hid his face in Doyoung’s thigh as he added a finger, and Doyoung nearly chuckled at how stupidly shy his boyfriend could be when they’d done this so many times before. But then Taeyong started to scissor his fingers, and Doyoung tossed his head back against the pillow at the feeling. Taeyong knew his body, knew how to touch him and make him come apart like this, even just with his fingers. “We should try that sometime,” Doyoung said, breathing out heavily. “We should see if you can make me come with just your fingers. No tongue, nothing else. Just your fingers inside me.”

“You want me to try?” Taeyong asked. His fingers pressed against Doyoung’s g-spot insistently, and Doyoung let out a breathy gasp.

“Not today,” Doyoung said. He lightly slapped Taeyong’s arm, sighing at the way that Taeyong just giggled at the hit. “We’ve already got you all ready, and besides, we didn’t put down a towel. I don’t want to get the sheets dirty. I know you hate dirty sheets as much as I do.”

“So basically, you know that I can make you squirt, that’s what you’re saying,” Taeyong said, smirking. Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Doyoungie, don’t you want me to make you come?”

Doyoung sighed, pressing down onto Taeyong’s fingers anyway. “Squirting doesn’t equal orgasm.” Besides, Doyoung didn’t really like the intensity of most of his orgasms. But Taeyong got off on the thought of Doyoung coming, so Doyoung would keep telling him about it anyway. Doyoung pressed his fingers against Taeyong’s cheek. “If you’re that intent on making me come, you should go ahead and fuck me already. Get your dick nice and wet.”

Taeyong bit his lip as he pulled his fingers out of Doyoung. He pulled Doyoung’s knees over his shoulders as he guided the head of his dick into Doyoung. Doyoung let his head fall back as he clenched around the silicone. It wasn’t too thick, but it was just enough of a stretch to be pleasurable. Taeyong leaned forward to kiss Doyoung, and he slipped a little farther inside, bending Doyoung’s knees against his chest.

“Fuck me, Tae,” Doyoung whispered in Taeyong’s ear as Taeyong pressed his forehead into Doyoung’s neck. “I’m so tight and wet around you, aren’t I?” Taeyong moaned. He got off on Doyoung’s pleasure, but he got off on the things Doyoung would tell him more. “You like stretching me out, don’t you? Knowing that you’re the only one that can fuck me like this.”

“Yes,” Taeyong whispered. Doyoung brought a hand up to his hair, dragging through the strands of hair that were becoming more and more stained with sweat. “Love you, Doyoungie. Love feeling you.”

Doyoung moaned. “Harder, Tae, show me how much you love this,” he said. Taeyong sped up his thrusts and brought a hand up to play with Doyoung’s nipple again. Taeyong really knew him, knew his body too well. “Make me come, Tae, come on. Don’t you want to make me clench tighter around you? So tight you can’t even move?”

Taeyong moaned. His thrusts stuttered, and Doyoung could see the muscles of his arm clench. It never ceased to amaze Doyoung that Taeyong was so capable of reaching orgasm without any kind of physical stimulation. “You’re going to come, aren’t you, baby boy?” Taeyong nodded against his neck. “Come on, then, come inside me. Make me yours, Tae.”

Taeyong thrust in once more, before he stopped, his weight collapsing onto Doyoung as he twitched, breathing heavily. Doyoung ran a hand through his hair, just holding him until his breathing evened out. Taeyong looked up at him when he came back down, and then he moved to get off of Doyoung, pulling out of him. He began to crawl back down Doyoung’s chest, and Doyoung knew that Taeyong probably felt obligated to finish him off. Such a sweet boy.

“It’s alright, Tae,” Doyoung said. “Just come cuddle, alright?”

“Are you sure?” Taeyong asked. He raised an eyebrow, and he really did look so cute like that.

Doyoung nodded. “I’m sure.” Taeyong shuffled off the bed, undoing the strap-on and putting it back in it’s shoebox beneath his bed.

“Do you want some pajamas? Boxers? Water?” Taeyong asked. He was always so concerned, so caring, even though he was the one who had just orgasmed and probably should have been more out of it than Doyoung.

Doyoung shook his head. “Just you.”

Taeyong smiled, crawling back in next to Doyoung and snuggling against him the way that he always would, his head over Doyoung's heart. “You know what I was just thinking about?”

“What, Tae?”

Taeyong smiled at him, the lines at the side of his eyes crinkling. “We can never leave each other. We know too much about each other to ever leave.”

 

\---

 

“It’s not fair to either of us to try to keep it up,” Doyoung says, his heart beating fast in his chest. “We both deserve a chance to be happy, and I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect either of us to be happy together when we’re so far apart.”

Taeyong nods, avoiding Doyoung’s eyes. “You’re right.”

“And you need someone who can be there for you, Taeyong. Someone who can drop everything and be there in half an hour,” Doyoung says, and Taeyong doesn’t protest because he knows it’s true. “I can’t be that person anymore.”

Taeyong takes a deep breath, looks out the window of the little café that Doyoung chose. It feels almost impersonal to be doing something like this in such a public place, after they had spent two years sharing a room, sharing themselves, their lives intertwined. But this is better, Doyoung persuades himself. Because even Taeyong isn’t daring enough to throw a fit in a place like this if something goes badly.

Taeyong taps his fingers against the fake-wood table. “My mom used to tell me something, when I was a kid.” Doyoung raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. “She told me that sometimes, in life, we meet people who are angels to us. But angels have wings. And wings are made to fly.”

“Taeyong--”

“Thank you, Doyoung,” Taeyong stands up, crossing to stand next to where Doyoung sits. “For being my angel.”

Taeyong presses one last kiss to Doyoung’s lips, and before Doyoung can say anything, Taeyong is gone, walking out of the café. Out of Doyoung’s line of sight, out of his care, out of his life. Doyoung has spent so much time worrying how Taeyong will survive without him, but maybe, deep down, he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to live without Taeyong. Taeyong’s always been a mess, always needed someone to watch out for him. But no one else could have made Doyoung so happy. No one else could have given him purpose the way Taeyong had.

Doyoung closes his eyes and breathes out. He lets his angel go.


End file.
